First Sunday in Advent
During my recent stay Zürich, I
spent a lot of time waiting: waiting for trains. I stayed in the town of Erlenbach, about five
miles from the city center along Lake Zurich, and commuted daily to Küsnacht,
about a mile away, where the C. G. Jung Institute is located. I never waited
very long, because trains arrive every fifteen minutes or so. If you spend some time in Switzerland, you
know that the trains there are amazing, they’re an engineering marvel. The Swiss are obsessed with their trains. Images
of trains show up in their dreams all the time. Many Swiss dream about being
late for the train or just missing a train as it moves away from the platform. They have good reasons to be proud of their
trains. They’re quiet, beautifully
designed, fast, clean, and they run exactly on time—well, most of the time. But
when a train is late, even two or three minutes late, Swiss Rail apologizes—profusely.
I was in Basel one afternoon and planned to take the train back around 7 p.m.
The train, coming from Germany (it was a German train) was late fifteen minutes—fifteen
minutes! Swiss Rail apologized to us as
we waited on the platform, another apology came once we were on the train, and
as we approached Zürich we received yet another apology—they apologized for
making us wait.
How we hate to wait. Waiting makes us uncomfortable, uneasy, anxious, frustrated, even angry. We’re obsessed with speed, in love with the instant, the moment. There’s a little Veruca Salt, from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, in each of us. “But Daddy, I want it NOW!” Instant gratification.
How we hate to wait. Waiting makes us uncomfortable, uneasy, anxious, frustrated, even angry. We’re obsessed with speed, in love with the instant, the moment. There’s a little Veruca Salt, from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, in each of us. “But Daddy, I want it NOW!” Instant gratification.
We
often fail to acknowledge the value of waiting, of being patient. This is a theme often found in Grimm’s
fairytales (which were actually written for adults, not children).[1]
Consider the story of Cinderella,
she has to wait for her prince to come, and the prince has to wait to find his
princess. The waiting can’t be avoided
or shortened. These tales teach us that all
kinds of violence and pain occur when we can’t wait, when we rush ahead, when
we take matters into our own hands, when we try to force something to occur on
our time schedule. Sometimes we need to
wait because we’re not ready for the tension of waiting to be resolved, because
we’re not mature enough to hear the wisdom of the tale, because we’re not wise
enough, humble enough, vulnerable enough to receive what we are anxiously
waiting for.
Advent is a season of waiting. But who likes to wait? Perhaps that’s why Advent is often
overlooked, ignored, or shortened—we give Advent two weeks, by the third week
we want to sing Christmas carols in worship—because we can’t wait to get to the
Christmas. How many times did we say as children, “I can’t wait ‘til Christmas”?
How often do our children say it? That
wait was excruciating, wasn’t it? Almost
painful. And the night before Christmas,
going to bed on Christmas Eve, we were sleepless, nervous with anticipation,
hoping against hope that time would somehow speed up overnight to bring us
faster, closer to Christmas morning.
Advent is no longer waiting for the
birth of Jesus. We already know he was born.
We might try to rehearse what it was like for Mary and Joseph to prepare
for his arrival. We begin our countdowns
to Christmas. But if Advent is only looking
back to what led up to the birth of Christ, we fail to honor another dimension
of Advent, which is looking toward the future.
Advent calls us to be alert for God’s presence coming toward us, from
the future, encountering us here and now.
Three times in Luke 21, Jesus warns
us that something is near: “your redemption is drawing near” (Lk. 21:28), a new
season is “already near” (Lk. 21:30), and the “kingdom of God is near” (Lk. 21:32). Something is on the way—redemption, the
kingdom of God—approaching from the future.
But how near? Jesus’ said, “…generation will not pass away until all
things have taken place” (Lk 21:31). But
we are many generations beyond that time. Did we miss it? It’s confusing.
We never learn how near. How long must we wait? Why must we wait? Near, and yet so far away. How long are we supposed to wait for redemption to be real? Where is this kingdom?
On Friday, I attended Baltimore Presbytery’s dismantling racism training, facilitated by Baltimore Racial Justice Action. This was an eight-hour workshop now required for all ministers in the presbytery. (Baltimore Presbytery is the first presbytery to require such training.) We looked at the origins and history of racism in the United States, the structures of racist policies and laws that have contributed to racial inequity in Baltimore, we wrestled with definitions of prejudice, white supremacy, white privilege, we shared our racist assumptions and behaviors, we acknowledged the shameful and sinful actions of the church (including the churches of this presbytery), and we heard the pain of those who have been victims of racist attitudes and policies. We looked at the past and we talked about what’s happening today in the U.S.—Ferguson, Charlottesville, Baltimore—and I felt myself saying, “How long? How long? It never ends. Will we ever learn? I’m tired of waiting for things to change. I can only imagine how my African-American brothers and sisters feel. Writing from a jail cell in Birmingham, Alabama, Martin Luther King, Jr. (1929-1968) wrote, “Justice too long delayed is justice denied.”
Justice delayed is justice denied. This is true, but if we move too fast, if we’re not ready for justice, for healing, ready to confess the sin of racism, even more damage could result. Waiting too long leads to despair; failing to wait until the time is right can lead to more violence and injustice.
But one thing we do know: God is coming. “The days are surely coming…when justice and righteousness will spring forth in the land” (Jeremiah 33:14-16).
Contemporary writer, scholar Richard Williamson, Jr. says, reflecting on Luke 21, Advent should “upend the world.” “A future-focused Advent recognizes the deep injustices in the world that remain to be rectified. Indeed, according to the text, the arrival of the Son of Man will be a wrenching experience for those deeply invested in the status quo. It will make the earth tremble. It will shake the heavens. It will fill the Empire with fear and foreboding—for the times are about to change.”
Everything takes place in God’s good time, and so we wait. Not passive waiting, not the waiting of indifference or resignation, not “I-can’t-do-anything-about-it,-so-why-try?”. We wait actively, we cannot allow ourselves to be indifferent or distracted. We’re engaged, expectant, vigilant, actively looking for what is coming toward us. It’s like standing on a platform waiting for the train. That’s active waiting. You see the train is on its way toward you, you can imagine what is far off coming closer to you, filling in the space between you and the approaching train. As you anticipate its coming, you’re already, at the same time, participating in its arrival. When Jesus tells us to look for what is coming, to be “on guard” (Lk. 21:34) and “be alert” (Lk. 21:36), we are already participating in what is coming toward us. We are then shaped by this experience. That experience, that is Advent.
We never learn how near. How long must we wait? Why must we wait? Near, and yet so far away. How long are we supposed to wait for redemption to be real? Where is this kingdom?
On Friday, I attended Baltimore Presbytery’s dismantling racism training, facilitated by Baltimore Racial Justice Action. This was an eight-hour workshop now required for all ministers in the presbytery. (Baltimore Presbytery is the first presbytery to require such training.) We looked at the origins and history of racism in the United States, the structures of racist policies and laws that have contributed to racial inequity in Baltimore, we wrestled with definitions of prejudice, white supremacy, white privilege, we shared our racist assumptions and behaviors, we acknowledged the shameful and sinful actions of the church (including the churches of this presbytery), and we heard the pain of those who have been victims of racist attitudes and policies. We looked at the past and we talked about what’s happening today in the U.S.—Ferguson, Charlottesville, Baltimore—and I felt myself saying, “How long? How long? It never ends. Will we ever learn? I’m tired of waiting for things to change. I can only imagine how my African-American brothers and sisters feel. Writing from a jail cell in Birmingham, Alabama, Martin Luther King, Jr. (1929-1968) wrote, “Justice too long delayed is justice denied.”
Justice delayed is justice denied. This is true, but if we move too fast, if we’re not ready for justice, for healing, ready to confess the sin of racism, even more damage could result. Waiting too long leads to despair; failing to wait until the time is right can lead to more violence and injustice.
But one thing we do know: God is coming. “The days are surely coming…when justice and righteousness will spring forth in the land” (Jeremiah 33:14-16).
Contemporary writer, scholar Richard Williamson, Jr. says, reflecting on Luke 21, Advent should “upend the world.” “A future-focused Advent recognizes the deep injustices in the world that remain to be rectified. Indeed, according to the text, the arrival of the Son of Man will be a wrenching experience for those deeply invested in the status quo. It will make the earth tremble. It will shake the heavens. It will fill the Empire with fear and foreboding—for the times are about to change.”
Everything takes place in God’s good time, and so we wait. Not passive waiting, not the waiting of indifference or resignation, not “I-can’t-do-anything-about-it,-so-why-try?”. We wait actively, we cannot allow ourselves to be indifferent or distracted. We’re engaged, expectant, vigilant, actively looking for what is coming toward us. It’s like standing on a platform waiting for the train. That’s active waiting. You see the train is on its way toward you, you can imagine what is far off coming closer to you, filling in the space between you and the approaching train. As you anticipate its coming, you’re already, at the same time, participating in its arrival. When Jesus tells us to look for what is coming, to be “on guard” (Lk. 21:34) and “be alert” (Lk. 21:36), we are already participating in what is coming toward us. We are then shaped by this experience. That experience, that is Advent.
The Presbyterian minister and writer
Frederick Buechner captures the experience of waiting. He says, “The extraordinary thing that is about to
happen is matched only by the extraordinary moment just before it happens. Advent
is the name of that moment,” the “moment just before it happens.” It’s that moment of anticipation that
something new is about to be born in us, in the world. Buechner says, “… if you concentrate just for
an instant, far off in the deeps of you somewhere you can feel the beating of
your heart. For all its madness and lostness, not to mention your own, you can
hear the world itself holding its breath.”[2]
We hold our breath and—breathe. Breath gives way to new breath.
This mystical season, this time-between-time, teaches us something invaluable about the Christian life: the importance of active waiting. All birth takes time. What is waiting to be born in you?
This mystical season, this time-between-time, teaches us something invaluable about the Christian life: the importance of active waiting. All birth takes time. What is waiting to be born in you?
[1] Jacob Grimm (1785-1863) and Wilhelm Grimm (1786-1859) collected their
tales (Märchen), not fairy tales, in the early nineteenth century. See The
Complete Grimm’s Tales (New York: Pantheon Books, 1972). See also Marie-Louise von Franz, The Interpretation of Fairy Tales
(Boston: Shambala, 1996).
[2] Frederick Buechner, Whistling in the Dark: A Doubter’s
Dictionary (HarperOne, 1993), 3.
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